You know the scene in 500 Days of Summer where the screen splits and we see JGL’s fantasy version of his night with Zooey played out next to the reality version of the same night?
My life is a continuous split screen of fantasy/reality.
Blessing, curse. Potato, potahto.
One of my biggest fantasy/reality dichotomies occurs when I move. Logically, I know, and have moved enough to realize, that a new place doesn’t fundamentally alter my personality or problems.
But I have always had very little patience for logic.
Every time I move I figure this time is different! All I needed was a fresh start, a little free time, and a reevluation of priorities to really become the person I was always meant to be!
And then reality hits…
Moving: Fantasy v. Reality
FANTASY: In this new place I will unleash my (deeply) hidden morning person and arise every day at dawn to read Shakespeare and ponder the mysteries of life.
REALITY: Holy %$#@ was that my alarm?
FANTASY: I’ll probably become a gourmet cook, too, because now I’ll have time for that sort of thing.
REALITY: SPICY MCCHICKEN. SPICY MCCHICKEN.
FANTASY: When I least expect it I will run into a dreamlover boy who will tell me, “You never have to be out there again” fulfilling my ultimate When-Harry-Met-Sally/Mariah Carey wish.
REALITY: Two words: Lindsay Bluth.
FANTASY: I’ll just really explore the local scene, you know? Live like a tourist in my own home. Not waste a moment.
REALITY: Hmm, I can go to the Grand Canyon any time, but what I can’t always do is sleep, am I right or am I right?
FANTASY: I’ll also suddenly become a clean freak, because that is my destiny. And I bet Oprah’s a clean freak.
REALITY: I’m no Oprah.
FANTASY: Within no time I’ll have found a group of eccentric friends to hang out at at coffee shops and group-sing “Smelly Cat” with.
FANTASY: I will surf every day, or at the very least twice a day five times a week.
FANTASY: My new life will be so busy with galas, Unagi and dreamlovers that I won’t even have time to think about being homesick.
REALITY: Homesickness is the great curse of adulthood. Or at least homesickness is the great curse of my adulthood.